


Fairytale of New York

by themortalartist



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternative Universe - Cinderella, Domestic Avengers, Domestic Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Eventual Happy Ending, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Angst, Gun Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mob Boss Alexander Pierce, Mob Boss Tony Stark, Tony is a dad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:21:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24327211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themortalartist/pseuds/themortalartist
Summary: Once Upon a Time Steve Rogers was a slave in the house of Hydra. His mother’s death leaving him behind to face a life of violence and torment alone until one night, when everything changes. This is a story of triumph, letters, blood, magic, and most of all - love.Or: A Cinderella Story: Avengers Edition where Steve is Cinderella, Bucky is a Prince, Hydra mob vs. Avengers mob, and there is definitely a happy ending because my ship deserves the effing world.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 11
Kudos: 38





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Helloooooo there, beautiful! This is a rework of something old that I deleted and I gotta say I like this version wayyy more. If there’s any errors lemme know!  
> (I'm bad a tags, but I'll fix them as I edit and post pinky promise)
> 
> Also if you care the title is my favorite Irish Christmas song, felt fitting, song doesn't have anything to do with this story but ya know tis cute

Once Upon a Time there was a war, a letter, and a hero.

But every hero has a tragic backstory right? The year was 1926 and the War was not yet fought by the World again, but by the most powerful mobs of the North East. Hydra was run by the egotistical, power hungry, and inevitably lonely Alexander Pierce. The goal of Hydra was to expand their tyranny. Gaining power through fear until they owned all five boroughs of New York; controlling the people, businesses, banks, cops, and all the money their blood stained hands could touch.  
Hydra’s biggest enemy was Tony Stark and his Avengers - not every mob was so evil. The Avengers were a dangerous underground group of highly trained vigilantes who only wanted power to keep the peace. There had always been a rivalry between the two groups but things had gone to a boiling point as Hydra tried to expand and the Avengers fought to stop them. Most of the NYPD had been corrupted on either side and those who hadn't were too new or too young and had yet to be manipulated (whether it be for the good or the bad). If there was a problem, Tony Stark was called and the culprit was almost always Hydra.  
Gunshots were a familiar sound to the people of Brooklyn, but on a rainy Monday night just after rush hour, an innocent man playing catch with his son was killed in the crossfire. Teenage boys using pistols to settle an argument over a girl too young to know the wrong boys from the right. Sara Rogers knew her husband was dead by the sound of her eight year old son’s scream.  
Turns out, the one who pulled the trigger was Pierce’s eldest son Brock who was only thirteen at the time but already had the cold heart of a killer just like his father. Killing Sara’s beloved husband was an accident, and even though Hydra did whatever they wanted, it wasn’t good for business. Pierce had to do something to secure a more domestic cover. The day of her husband’s funeral Sara came home to a sealed letter on the doorstep to their rundown apartment. Her son Steve picked it up with pale, shaky hands and even at his young age knew what it meant. He stared into the empty eyes of the skull praying it wouldn't be true.  
Sara was to marry Alexander Pierce in the coming week, move into the Hydra mansion, and help mother his two sons: Brock, who murdered her husband and James, who would one day be a hero in our story.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has a memory.

Steve turned seventeen yesterday and celebrated by cleaning blood out of the magnificent burgundy carpet in the back room. “What a waste..” he had muttered, eyes stinging with the toxic smell of stain remover. Today he walks over the spot he cleaned, a rare feeling of pride in his step as he balances coffee and fresh bagels on a literal silver platter. The stain looks nearly invisible thanks to his efforts, not that anyone would notice. He walks through the halls of the Hydra Mansion breathing in the peace and quiet of a Sunday morning before the day truly begins. He glided carefully down the longest hallway on the second floor. The walls were a clean slate gray with red and black designs carved into the molding. It was lined with extravagant frames on either side. Some pairings depicted calm sunsets of the German countryside, some were photos of uniformed men with masklike faces. Scattered between were Pierce’s greatest accomplishments and one great disappointment. Steve stopped to look at a family portrait of Pierce and his two sons that must have been done before Steve and his mother moved in. Pierce sat with a constipated twist to his face; his hair had yet to gray but deep lines aged him. On his right was his oldest son Brock who had undoubtedly inherited the same cold eyes of his father.

Growing up, Steve had always known the truth about how his dad died. His pure heart trying to convince him that Brock was barely a teenager who had made a dumb mistake, not meaning for anyone to get seriously hurt. But as Steve grew he started to know better. Brock would taunt him relentlessly when they were younger; harsh words that turned into harsher actions as the boys turned into men.

Mirroring Brock on their father’s left stood James, a year younger than his brother, looking less evil and more lifeless. James was always quiet but had excelled in every task his father threw at him; languages, knives, guns, and art. He had excelled in everything except being heartless. He refused to go hunting, turned down lessons of torture, left as his father told tales of taking lives slowly and without mercy. As sons of Hydra, having a trait like mercy is the last thing you would want - especially for the future heirs. James had bullied Steve in smaller ways - leaving messes for him to clean up, letting Brock use him as a punching bag, blaming him for things that broke or spilled. Steve likes to think the only reason James did those things were so he didn’t have to do worse. If anyone was seen favoring Steve or treating him with the slightest touch of decency they were outcast or beat themselves. Brock had made his father proud with his attitude toward Steve, James had run away before Pierce’s disappointment could turn into rage against his own son.

Steve took a deep breath as memories started to flood back…

“Get your ass back here Rogers!” Brock screamed, chasing a ten year old boy through the backyard. Steve’s asthma was starting to catch up with him as he ran from his step brother. It would seem almost innocent, boys playing childish games, except for the fact that Brock held a metal meat cleaver high in his right hand. Brock was five years older, taller, stronger than Steve could ever dream of being; there was no winning his games. Steve tripped over a rogue golf ball and tumbled down onto the polished rocks that surrounded the edges of the garden. Brock straddled him before he could get a breath in. He held the handle of the meat cleaver against Steve’s throat and smiled, well aware of the power he had. All he needed to do was push down for a few moments before Steve stopped breathing altogether.

“How stupid are you Rogers,” Brock almost sang, mere inches from his face, “When I tell you I want my room cleaned that doesn’t mean steal from me. Just wait until my father hears what you have tried to do.” His smile turned darker and he pulled back, still sitting on Steve’s tiny hips. He lightly hit his palm with the end of his kitchen tool turned weapon, “I hope he lets me watch.”

Steve gasped for breath, blue lips gratefully filling back up with blood. He hadn’t stolen - he would never. Brock had asked for his suit to be cleaned and that’s exactly what Steve had been doing, but the Pierce family had always found ways to spin the truth so they could play a game of torture with their own slave. That’s what Steve was, that’s all he was to them. For the past two years he cleaned and cooked, following any order, taking every hit. If his mother had turned down the proposal they would surely be dead, so he could never blame her for trying to save them. After all it is sometimes better to be on your enemy's side. Sara had been a great mother; she gave Steve all the love and comfort a boy could need, even living less than human lives in the basement of the Hydra house. She died of pneumonia months after marrying Pierce and with her Steve lost his only living parent, his only friend, his only form of love.

He thought about her so often that as Brock pushed the limits of Steve’s lungs it did not scare him - because at least he would get to see his mom.

“Brock!” James had yelled out of the window overlooking the yard, “Uh, father- father says you have to come in to finish your language lesson!” he had stuttered, eyes never leaving Steve’s. Brock rolled his eyes and threw the meat cleaver toward Steve’s head. He missed, on purpose, the metal hurtling itself into the rocks. Brock scoffed and spit on Steve’s face as he walked away. The farwell kick to Steve’s tiny ribs is what made the coughing start as he was left alone. His inhaler was sitting on his pillow in the basement, too far for him to get to - but that didn’t stop him from trying. He started to crawl, barely holding himself off the ground as he inched across the garden toward the cellar door. It creaked open before he could reach it and James stood in the doorway refusing to step through. He stared at Steve for a moment and Steve stared back even as his vision started to blur. James bit his lip before throwing the inhaler into the dirt next to Steve. He stood, hands gripping his suspenders until his knuckles turned white, face emotionless but something in his eyes was pleading. He was already overstepping, helping his step brother. If Steve didn’t use the inhaler himself and James was caught rescuing him they’d both be beaten. Steve didn’t find the strength to save himself because he had hope or a will to live, but because he knew Bucky would help and that meant he would get hurt. Steve would rather take the punches than cause someone else harm because he was too irresponsible to remember to keep his inhaler on him at all times. These are things his parents had reminded him of time and time again. He was still learning how to function without them.

Memories like these would take him by surprise, forming a surprising lump in his throat as he held back tears. When James ran away things seemed to get worse. Pierce took out his anger on his step son and Brock used him as an outlet to destress after having more responsibility put on him to be perfect in everything just as his brother was. Steve shed a tear not for his own pain but for losing James and his small acts of kindness that would remind Steve of a world outside one of darkness and torture.

“Steven?” Pierce asked, shaking Steve out of his memory as he leaped back from the painting. His stepfather stepped slowly out of his bedroom and stalked toward him, eyes switching back and forth between Steve and the painting.

He stopped next to Steve and sighed heavily, “What a shame, isn’t it?” Steve took a small breath and looked down, never making eye contact. “What is Sir?”

“How you could raise someone, give them everything, and they repay you by damning your family name and disappearing.” he talked so casually - his voice was light, no remorse or worry for his missing son.

Steve nodded in return too scared to speak. Pierce snapped his fingers and Steve looked up on instinct and was met with a slap to the face. The tray he was holding shook only slightly (it’s the little victories).

“Do not let me catch you daydreaming like that again. You’re late with my coffee, now follow me to my office.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve get a promotion he never wanted but maybe it'll be worth it if there's a chance he can see James again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some chaps are gonna be short and sweet and some longer sorry if thats annoying lol

Steve stood awkwardly in the office - he was only ever in there to clean and never when Pierce was present. He tried to hunch his shoulders, an anxious habit he developed after hitting his growth spurt a few years back. He towered over everyone in the house and could even come off as intimidating with muscles big and rounded from years of hard labour. He placed the tray gently on the desk in front of him as his step father took the seat behind it. He admired Steve for a moment - hand to his chin and brows knit together as his eyes raked up and down Steve’s form. Steve tried to shrink further into himself, uncomfortable with all the attention because it only ever meant something bad was coming.

“Have a seat, Steven.” He demanded, sighing to himself as he took a sip of his coffee. “I have some exciting news about your position within our organization.” he spoke reluctantly and it’s only then Steve realized how tired he looked. He nodded, knowing better than to speak until Pierce asked him to.

“An informant of mine has information on James. It seems the past couple of years he has been working for Tony Stark. My sources are not always reliable so I have planned to send some men into a banquet that is being thrown in the Avengers Tower to investigate further. You, my boy, will be among those undercover.”.

Steve’s mouth snapped open, a million thoughts running through his mind at once. When James had disappeared it was as if he became a ghost. Everything he owned was left behind and he was smart enough not to leave a trail. It had been 5 years since James had run away and his father had searched tirelessly for him with a burning fire of revenge - he wanted to be the one who put a bullet in his son’s head (no matter how much Brock begged). The last place James would have been expected is the Avengers, his father's most hated enemy; it twisted the knife that he had already plunged into his father’s back. Steve had thought he’d escaped to Europe to start a new life full of peace and quiet. He would read aloud whenever Steve cleaned the library, claiming he was thinking outloud when Steve knew he was talking to him. He would go on about men who wanted adventure, building cabins in mountains, going off grid in some far off land. Let’s just say Steve was not entirely surprised when his only “friend" ran away. He missed James’ voice.

“Why me? I’m no soldier.” villain, murderer, demon Steve wanted to say. “Because you are unrecognizable, Steven. You have not left the estate in nearly a decade and your stature provides some - insurance - that you will not lose control of the situation if you are recognized as part of Hydra.” Pierce stood, Steve mirrored him on shaky feet. “Get in. Find evidence of my son. Report back.” He spit the word son as if he had poison in his mouth.

Pierce reached into his desk drawer and threw a gun onto the desk between them, “Gabriel is waiting for you in the training room for basics, the banquet is tomorrow. Welcome to Hydra.”

Steve spent the next 15 hours learning basic self defense and how to shoot a gun. His hands shook and he was a terrible shot - the sound brought him back to the day his father was killed. He did, however, pick up hand to hand combat with ease. Gabriel was newly promoted in Hydra and had little clue on who Steve was. He didn’t speak much and hit hard only when he needed to. Steve’s asthma didn’t flare up as much as it did when he was younger but at the rate they were going he feared he’d have an attack if training intensified.

He fell asleep dreaming about what it would be like to see James again, if his voice sounded the same...


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet the Prince himself...

“Bucky! Come on man, I have seen you lift at LEAST 300 pounds get your lazy bubble butt ass out of that chair and help us carry these decorations!” Sam’s yells could be heard echoing throughout the ballroom and onto the balcony where Bucky was quietly reading before his best friend called. He thought he got out of decor duty after taking down one of the hydra dogs at the community college yesterday.

“Sam,” he groaned, keeping a thumb between the pages he strolled into the ballroom and saw Sam holding what had to be 5 boxes filled with flowers. They stood there having a glaring contest, communicating with brow raises and eyerolls until eventually Bucky gave in and took 2 boxes from Sam’s hands. “I have bruised ribs Tony said-” Sam dropped the boxes on one of the grand tables and put a hand in front of Bucky’s face.

“I’m sorry your highness but just because Tones said you could act like a royal pain all day means nothing to me.” he elaborated his point by dramatically flipping the lid to one of the boxes open and handed Bucky a bouquet of black, white, and blue roses. They were the colors of the Avengers Charity that Tony had started a while back, A way to give back to the community cleanly; no blood shed, no rivalry, just donations from rich pricks like him who were smart enough to know that kindness was a way to get on the Avengers good side without striking up a contract. Contracts were given out to businesses within the Avengers territory. Monthly payments that went straight into the pockets of Tony’s men. It was a simple concept: if they missed a payment or broke the law the contract was terminated and they would no longer be under the protection of the Avengers. People who refused a contract had a close eye kept on them in case they were working with Hydra, but they didn’t usually cause much trouble.

Years back Tony had been walking the shops checking in on some of those businesses when he spotted two young men in an alley. He didn’t do much street work nowadays but stepped in when the situation called for it. James had been pressed against the wall taking punch after punch by another kid that looked to be around the same age. Tony had a gun to the base of his skull before he could throw another hit. James hadn’t even seen him coming. The boss moved so quietly and quickly with a practiced deadly grace that took the boy throwing punches by surprise.

“He stole!” the kid spoke frantically before Tony could get a word in, his voice shook as he released James’ collar and dropped both hands to his sides.

“Then you call the police, kid.” Tony spoke with a fatherly authority, sounding more like a disappointed parent than mobster. He took the boy by the back of his shirt and shoved him to the side taking in the state of James’ face. He shot a glare back to the one who had been attacking him, “What's your name?”

“C-Clint-” he stuttered out, complexion palling by the second. Everyone knew Tony’s face - how he could make someone disappear in hours with no questions asked because that’s just how much power he and his team had. “You throw a good punch Clint. But you lack discipline. If you want to punish thieves, join the NYPD - you might even have a future with my team one day. For now you’re on my list. Go back to your father’s store and don’t bother my friend here again.” with that Clint rushed back up the street with his head hung low. He became a cop under the Avengers hand 2 years later.

He turned back to James who stared with a cold, blank face at the older man. Tony ushered him into his car without a word and drove back to the Tower. “James. Been a while. Want to tell me why you were letting that kid beat you up?”

The younger boy pinked up at the tips of his ears and bit at his knuckles nervously before answering, “Don’t call me James, Mr. Stark. You’re not my father.”

The older man raised both eyebrows above the sunglasses he had been wearing with surprise. They had formed a strange relationship over the years. Bucky snuck out of the Hydra mansion countless times, getting into trouble that Tony would have to clean up - knowing full well who his father was. Tony had a soft spot for children because he was unable to have any of his own. The first time he saw James was on his eighth birthday; he broke into Tony’s garden too young to know whose house he was attempting to break into. When Tony caught him, angry at the thought of Hydra using such a young boy to spy on him James had been nothing but respectful and apologetic. Tony gave him the comfort and love he lacked at home, while James gave Tony some dream of parental fulfillment. A few years back James had broken into one of Tony’s homes, shaking him awake and dragging the man out of the house seconds before Hydra agents exploded glass windows with bullets. He was only 11, an heir to the Hydra gang, and Tony trusted him with his life from that night on.

“What are you doing in broad daylight letting that kid beat your face in? If your father saw you-” “I’m not going back Mr. Stark.” with that Tony’s tires squealed as he pulled over into an area of flat grass covered by trees. “What the fuck do you mean you’re not going back, Bucky?” he asked, turning to face the kid fully now. He looked so young in that moment - he was young. ‘Bucky’ had been a code name Tony would use for James to help conceal his identity.

The young man took a stuttering breath and looked out the window refusing to make eye contact with Tony, “I can’t do it anymore, Mr. Stark. I don't - I don't want to be the hand of Hydra. I don’t want to hurt innocent people. He - he made me do things t-that I-” he licked his lips and took a steadying breath as Tony placed a reassuring hand on his knee, “He’s going to kill me when he realizes I don't want to - to do those things. He held a gun to my head the other day you know?” James had turned with a hint of desperation in his voice and looked Tony in the eyes. “He held a gun to my head and made me torture this - this woman who worked for Hydra who - I don't even know what she did Tony but she was screaming the entire time. Praying for me to stop outloud. It took me hours to wash her blood off me M-Mr. Stark I can’t go back. Please help me?”.

By the time James had finished he was covered in tears and Tony had pulled him into a tight hug with a hand on the back of his head gently.

Tony took him in and publicly introduced him as Bucky, his protege. Bucky grew his hair out, covered himself in tattoos of loyalty to the Avengers, and with time soon became unrecognizable as the heir to Hydra. He was nicknamed the Prince of the Avengers. Swoon worthy, the best man the team had because of all his previous training, loved and respected as Tony’s adopted son by all. He had a new life, for once he was happy. Tony hadn’t even pressured him to work the streets. But Bucky felt a sense of responsibility to clean up the blood his father would spill - he would stop at nothing to end Hydra. Whenever they would raid a Hydra operation he would wear a black mask Tony had made especially for him to keep his father's men from recognizing him. There was a strict no photograph policy, as well. He had time to do what he loved. Read, write, learn anything he could - everything his father said was nonsense. He thought of Steve often; felt the guilt of leaving him behind weigh heavy in his chest every night. He would write Steve letters in a red book he kept by his bed. He thought of blue eyes and blond hair, fragile shoulders, long fingers-

“Earth to Bucky?” Sam whacked his nose with a few roses to get his attention.

“Sorry - Sorry Sam - stop hitting me with the fuckin flowers I’m helping!”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve was going to fucking throw up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> probably my fave chapter so far - thanks for the love guys this isnt the best but its just a random idea I NEEDED to get down and share!!!

Steve’s hands shook with such aggression he had to stuff them in his pockets. Long fingers played with his father’s ring almost too big for his right hand in an attempt to calm himself down. He wore it every day, as a reminder of where he came from - that he wasn't just a puppet. It had a small blue sapphire surrounded by silver carved into thick ropes. His father had served in the Marines before he met Steve’s mother - Steve thought he would always follow in his footsteps if not for his asthma. Now it seemed such a straight path was practically impossible. He had never worn a suit this expensive - the one he wore to his father’s funeral had been loaned and the uniform he had to wear around the Hydra Mansion was nothing but a black button up with matching pants. This time he wears a black jacket with gold trim and a shirt pearly white underneath with a blood red bowtie to match the flower above his heart. He hated it. His hair had been styled to the side by the same women who tailored the suit. Her touches were cold and calculated. He was placed in a lavish white car with leather cushions; he eyed the champaign that sat on top in an ice bucket but decided against opening it at the fear of being reprimanded. God what was he doing here? He couldn’t recognize himself in the mirror, his walk had shifted with the uncomfortable pressure of a gun digging into his ribs, the knife at his ankle made his skin itch - he felt like a little boy playing dress up. The man that had shown him to the car eyed him, “Don’t fuck this up, Rogers. Stand up straight.” he slammed the door in Steve’s face and the car drove off to the Avengers Tower.

The party had been going on for about an hour and Bucky was strolling along the walls scouting for any kind of trouble, watching people with his dark eyes. Tony gave him hell for it; he wanted Bucky to dance, drink, enjoy - but the boy had paranoia and good instincts, a combination that made it hard to have fun in crowded places like this. Besides, the longer he talked to someone the more nervous he would become about being recognized, even though he looked nothing like his younger self. 

The room was filled with men and women covered in gold, silver, diamond, anything that showed their high class. They were the wealth of New York, competing for social power that belonged to the Mobster King who sat on his throne at the back of the room. The head table Tony sat at was covered in flowers Sam had spent ages trying to get right. Pepper sat to his right, Natasha to his left. They were gorgeous as ever in matching red dresses. Tony wore a dark blue suit with a white tie and rose tucked into the pocket. All the men were asked to wear a rose in their breast pocket to the banquet as they were a symbol of the charity as well as peace - at least for the night. Bucky couldn’t help the smile that slowly spread across his face when their eyes met briefly. He was proud to be an Avenger. 

The band’s fast tempo slowed to something that sounded like a lullaby from an old music box. Bucky's round had taken him back to the grand staircase that led down into the ballroom. He looked back onto the party and sighed. Everything glittered and he felt out of place in his fitted black suit. He wore a silver chain that Tony had given him last year on his birthday. A detailed pendant of the Avengers symbol rests at heart level to remind him every day where he belongs. It compliments the heavy rings he wears on his left hand - it packs a mean punch and helps keep up the style Tony expects them all to have. He wore a high collar to cover the tattoos that snuck up his neck. He wasn’t a fan of the banquets or fancy clothes, but he liked making Tony proud.

“Well, well, well the Prince cleans up nicely!” Bucky turned to see Stephen Strange giving him an unusually wide smile. He was the best surgeon in all five boroughs and somehow still found time to be the life of every party. “Dr. Strange.” Bucky said politely as he shook the man’s hand. People would call him “Prince” as if he wasn’t a mobster, a murderer. He liked the anonymity of the word though. It took away any personal interest someone might have and left nothing but a title. Sam joked that he liked the power play of it all, Bucky would only smirk at the teasing. Maybe he did like it a little. 

“How have you been, Doctor? Enjoying your evening?” Bucky glanced at the empty glass of bourbon in the older man’s hand. Strange only smiled wider and walked away with a pat to Bucky’s shoulder, “As you should be, your highness. The pickings are great tonight.” he winked and disappeared into a sea of people. 

Bucky leant against the banister and closed his eyes for just a moment; he needed to breathe sometimes. Suddenly the roar of laughter and chatter stopped leaving only the dreamy sound of music to play. He snapped his eyes open as his hand instinctively went to the holster on his side before he realized everyone had calmly turned to look in his direction - but not at him. Bucky furrowed his brows before spinning around his heart stopping in his chest. 

Steve was going to fucking throw up. He stood dead center at the top of the stairs as the man announced some fake station Pierce had manufactured for him. He felt silly and small - but remembered not to hunch his shoulders. With a deep breath he straightened and schooled his features into something that mocked confidence and bravado. He slowly started to descend the staircase. His pulse raced at the eyes on him. Pierce had said to be quick in and out, not to draw any attention. Yet here he was - the worst undercover agent in Hydra history. The plan to be stealth had backfired, now he had to be smooth and collected. 

Bucky had been hypnotised by this man’s eyes. They brought him back to memories of a small boy with a deep voice. It couldn’t be Steve - but the feeling of something so familiar and peaceful had Bucky’s breath stuttering and palms sweaty. It was like remembering a past life. 

Steve felt goosebumps rise up on the back of his neck as he got closer to the bottom of the stairs - people had started to go back to their conversations, no doubt whispering about this mystery man they had never seen before. When his eyes caught steel gray ones he had to grab the railing off to the side. No one had ever looked at him with such want. He found himself gravitating toward the man with the long hair and moonstone eyes, the mission pushed to the back of his mind. 

Bucky had never asked for anything. Tony had given more than he could ever have expected - but right now, in this moment, he needed this man who looked like an angel. Needed to hear his voice, touch his skin, know his name. He had no shame in his attraction - when you’re the adopted son of the most powerful mobster in the North East you could be with whoever you wanted because people were too scared to tell you no. Tony had looked at him fiercely the night Bucky had told him. The young man couldn’t keep it from his guardian, they had no secrets between the two. He had been scared for only a moment before Tony wrapped him in a tight hug. Being gay was not only illegal but dangerous. The Avengers were more dangerous though - they owned the law. Bucky kept it under wraps to the public, though. He had never found interest in any men, and keeping the chase of women was good for business sometimes. Bucky got through many doors on his charm alone. 

Before he could think better of himself Bucky’s hand shot out before his angel could reach the last step. Steve felt like he was in a trance. He knew looking for James was the reason for coming to the banquet but, Steve had never allowed himself a night like this. A night for himself. And here was this handsome man offering a hand to Steve like he was some dame and he  _ liked  _ it. 

The moment hands touched they felt like matches that had just stuck a flame - their bodies burned with heat. Bucky pulled Steve down the last step and swept him onto the dancefloor without a word. 

Bucky placed a hand on Steve’s back and pulled him close enough so the tips of their noses were almost touching. They stayed like that for a long moment, the song had ended and the world was quiet. The first note of the next song was from a dream, and Bucky took the lead of their dance. The crowd formed a frame around the pair. Watching in awe as the mobster Prince glided gracefully on his feet, twirling this smiling mystery man around like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Steve had never been held so delicately. He was a hair taller than Bucky, but the older boy was broad with thicker muscles that Steve tried his best not to drool at but he was so distracted he tripped over his own freshly polished shoes. Bucky laughed at Steve’s misstep and the sound was intoxicating. 

“I-I’m not very good at this-” he started, looking down at his feet with a blush. “Oh trust me, I can tell” Bucky mocked and was shot a playful glare in retaliation. He pulled the blond tighter to his chest, “Just hold on to me.”

Natasha watched with amusement as Bucky twirled blondie around in circles, she nudged Tony hard in the arm. “Tony, you see that?” The boss hummed and turned his head before sputtering on his drink “Holy shit, who is that?” he asked, starting to rise from his chair before Nat pulled him back down. “That investigation, your majesty, can be saved until after they’re done falling in love.” Tony’s eyes widened just a fraction and watched as Bucky pulled a very apprehensive Steve toward the balcony.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi babies this ones shorter because i feel like what happens next deserves its own chapter - i know i know y'all hate fillers i'm sorry
> 
> also mini warning there a lil violence in this one
> 
> also ALSO if you wanna edit (I think it’s called beta? idk) this fic be my guest lol

The band played on while Bucky led Steve outside. His favorite balcony had stairs that led down to one of the lush gardens that surrounded the Tower. Steve held Bucky’s hand tightly as they walked, stopping every now and then to lightly brush the plants with his fingers. Every once in a while they would stop to stare into each other's eyes. Bucky would place a gentle hand under Steve’s chin to make him smile when the boy became nervous. Steve knew he was deviating from the mission, knew if there were other Hydra here keeping an eye on him he’d get in trouble. He just couldn't get away from Bucky. They came upon a stone wall that hid under a weeping willow. Steve sat, stopping Bucky in his tracks and the blond took a seat in the grass and gazed up at the tree. The greenery hanging down from it reminded Steve of a story book he had as a child. He leaned back against the wall and breathed in the fresh night air. Bucky stared at him as if he was the only thing in the world. 

“I didn’t know trees could be this beautiful in real life.” Steve mumbled, mostly to himself. Bucky took a seat across from him, leaning against the sturdy trunk of the tree. “They don’t have trees where you're from?” He asked with a playful grin. Flirting like this felt almost wrong, like he was trying too hard when he didn’t need to. The blond’s gaze turned to him then. Steve rolled his eyes, “We have trees, you jerk! It’s just - different here.” Bucky bit his lip and raised a brow. This kid must not know who he is, calling him a name like that. “I wouldn’t call me names like that, punk.” he was only teasing but the look Steve gave him was like he was willing to fight. “Oh yeah? I’m not scared of the Avengers.”

Bucky tilted his head to the side and stuck out his hand, like he did when they were inside but this time when Steve took it, Bucky held it firmly and shook it up and down lightly. “Bucky. I’m Tony Stark’s son.”

Steve dropped the hand like he’d been burnt and stood quickly. Pierce made it clear that he wanted Steve to fall under the radar, not talk to the mob leader's son - of all people! He felt his breath come a little faster “Bucky, forgive me I’m sorry I didn’t mean any disrespect!”

Bucky stood, brows furrowed with confusion as he stepped closer, “Are you alright?” he asked softly, placing a hand on Steve’s cheek. Steve’s eyes grew wide but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away. His heart felt like it was going to burst out of his chest. Bucky didn’t know how to help, “What’s your name? Breathe for me, doll.”

It’s not that Steve was weak. He had gone through hell since he was eight years old; he knew when to bite his tongue and when to defend himself. He was strong, determined, and never backed down from a challenge. He was not weak. But he never had this much freedom. He didn’t know what to do with the caring way Bucky’s thumb was trailing across his cheekbone. He could run away from it all right now, flee to Philadelphia and see if his cousins were still alive, would take him in. He could escape. Why didn’t he plan an escape? Why was he letting Bucky hold him like he was something special? Why did it feel so fucking good to finally be seen as a human instead of a tool?

“What's your name?” Bucky asked again, growing more curious by the second because there was something about the way the blond couldn't quite catch his breath. Bucky went to place his other hand at Steve’s side when he felt a familiar object. His defenses grew to ice once again; he moved the hand that was on Steve’s cheek to his shoulder in a vice grip. He pushed Steve’s suit jacket aside to remove the gun, his grip keeping Steve firmly in place. He pulled the gun out of it’s holster and inspected the handle. 

The dream was over.

Steve head made a disturbing crack as he was thrown against the stone wall “Why are you here? Did my father send you?”. Bucky’s accent was thick, voice rough instead of the light and charming tone it had moments ago. “Answer me!” he growled.

Steve couldn't run away. He’d be hunted by the Avengers now that he was caught, he realized with a sickening fear that the safest place for him was going to be the Hydra Mansion. He kneed Bucky hard in the gut and twisted out of the hands he never wanted to let go of in the first place. He knew the floor plan of the Tower, Pierce had made him memorize it in case something like this happened. He ran, and ran, and ran until he was in the street alone. 

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Bucky felt rageful. How could he have felt such peace and comfort with someone who was no doubt a monster? He went to run after the blond but the moon reflected off something small and silver. Bucky leant down to inspect what the man had left behind. It was a ring he’d seen so many times before in a past life. The bells rang midnight as Bucky dropped to his knees, clutching the ring to his chest. “ _ Steve _ ” he gasped out, he didn’t notice Tony rushing toward him, dropping to his knees with worry. “What did they do to you,  _ god _ ” he muttered over and over again, even as Tony hauled him to his feet. 

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When Steve got back to the car that was parked behind the corner there were two Hydra workers sitting in the back. They looked pissed. Steve knew he was fucked.

That night he was beaten so badly his mind started playing tricks on him. He was laying in the grass under the willow tree with Bucky above him, a gentle hand on the side of his neck - then the hand was choking him and he was beneath a Hydra man on a cold concrete floor. The next moment him and Bucky were exchanging a sweet kiss, wet with gentle swipes of tongue, Bucky’s large hand cradling the back of his head - then he was brought back to the taste of copper. His was face down in a small puddle of his own blood with a boot on the back of his head. He imagined James coming in - older now, eyes mirroring the same worried ones Bucky had in the garden when Steve started to panic. The shock came on so suddenly he passed out.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the epitome of an author just tryin to get to the good stuff - this chap is a lil short and I barely proof read but GAHHHHHHHH i just want them together - like, now!!! dont y'all???????

The Avengers Tower was a Victorian style mansion that had broken the record for the tallest livable structure in New York about 2 years ago. From it’s roof, there was a 360 view of all 5 boroughs and high enough to star gaze even in the city. Tony would sometimes choose a few special guests to join the Avengers up there after a big party to watch the sunrise. That would definitely not be happening tonight. The Avengers had shut the party down shortly before bringing Bucky back inside. He sat now, in the chair Tony liked to call his “throne”, with his most trusted friends kneeling in front of him, eyes pleading for answers. It didn’t comfort him the way it used to in the past. Their eyes felt threatening and it made his knuckles turn white, heart pounding like a time bomb until he jumped up and threw the throne across the room like it was a grenade. 

  
  


“Fuck! Tony we have to get him out of there!” he shouted, pulling at his hair like a crazy person. He paced back and forth as if he was an animal in a cage. “How can you be sure Pierce hasn’t corrupted him?” Sam’s voice was always the calm within a storm, but his words hit Bucky like a bullet in the chest. 

  
  


“Because - he’s - he’s I don't fucking know okay? But I know him. I know he would rather die than work for Hydra.” he spoke quickly out of fear that if he listened close enough to the words coming out of his mouth he would hear how unsure they really were. Unsure, but he knew they were true down to his core. "They killed his father and practically kidnapped him and his mother! Steve would - he would _never._ "

  
  


Natasha spoke up in a voice Bucky had no memory of her using - it was almost regretful “That was years ago, Bucky, What if your father brainwashed-” “No!” he directed his fury toward her, pointing a deadly finger in her face before moving it in Tony’s direction, “Tony Stark is my fucking father, okay?” He turned then to the older man, eyes pleading with tears no one would mention. He felt like the boy who had years ago begged Tony for a new life. “Please, please, if you don’t help me I’ll go myself.”

  
  


There was a collective gasp at that, even Tony’s mouth hung open a bit at the threat. “Bucky…” he walked forward with his hands up before they rested gently on either side of Bucky’s face. They stared at each other for a moment that felt like hours before Tony sighed, tired already of the plan he was hatching, “You are one hundred percent sure this kid did not recognize you? Because if he did there could be Hydra men on their way here  _ right now _ -” Bucky nodded frantically before Tony continued. “You can’t come. Risking your identity is too dangerous for all of us. Pierce already knows you’re in the family somehow, which -” he stepped back gesturing at Pepper to come closer before whispering in her ear. She nodded and walked away,, snapping her fingers at the men who guarded the door before she left with them in tow. The man who gave Bucky up would be found and dead by morning. Tony turned back to Bucky, one hand still on his cheek. “We will get him. Be patient, but I also need you to be prepared. If he has been corrupted by Hydra, I will make his death quick and painless.”

  
  


That night Bucky wrote a letter to Steve in the journal he kept next to his bed, he laid it gently on the blanket and fell to his knees with his hands folded over the pages. He wetly whispered Steve’s name a few times before sending a prayer to any god who was listening. He had never prayed before, but it was the only thing that felt right.

How had he not recognized him at first glance? How had he held Steve so closely without feeling the gloc at his ribs? How had he kissed his hand so many times and missed the ring? Bucky wore it on his middle finger now as he lay in bed, letting the candle on his nightstand reflect off the gem. He had watched Steve’s hands move with such grace for years. At dinner, he would look straight ahead in a staring contest with his brother and it was only when he saw that ring on a pale, slender hand pass in front of him he would realize Steve was the one serving his supper - he was calm feeling Steve stand behind him. Family dinners always sucked when your brother wanted to kill you and your father didn’t care - at least Steve liked him enough to plate him extra strawberries at dessert. Bucky would gaze at Steve’s hands as they smudged charcoal across scraps of paper Pierce had thrown out - mesmerized at how the blond could turn shapes into scenes out of thin air. Steve would never say anything, just sit in the corner of the library with a light blush across his cheeks as Bucky leaned over the back of the couch falling a little in love. Is that what Bucky felt tonight? He thought it was love when he saw the man at the top of the stairs, or maybe as their hands touched, perhaps when the man smiled as he stepped on Bucky’s toes? No - no, Bucky knew he was in love when his heart broke seeing the red skull head on that fucking gun. 

He didn’t sleep that night, just clutched the little red notebook to his chest and said Steve;s name like a prayer - his angel. 

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The Avengers were mobsters trained like soldiers. They moved quickly, gracefully, and dirty. There was a “Mercy Once” rule that if broken meant death - or some things far, far worse. Always armed and always on guard, their numbers doubled Hydra. In fact, the only reason they were still around was because the Avengers wanted the takedown to be public and as legal as possible. There would be no get out of jail free cards by the time Tony was done with them. But that plan had been in action when Tony's immigrant grandfather founded the Avengers - so patience was another virtue the Avengers lived by. After Tony had gone upstairs he assembled (hehe i couldn't help myself) a team of 5 men and one badass woman. 

  
  


“You sure you want me tagging along with the big boys, Tones?” Natasha asked with fake innocence, eyes wide and playful as she strapped yet another weapon to her ankle. The man in question raised his brow as he bit his thumb, “Nat,” he said crossing his arms “You have taken down every guy in the family - besides me - and I trust you with my life. Also, you’re the only one who's been inside the mansion!” he gave her a smile and walked around the armory as the others suited up (again, couldn't help myself).

  
  


All Tony had to do was stand at the front of the room to get everyone's attention. “Everyone remember the plan?” he asked, eyeing the Avengers carefully. Natasha, Scott, Pietro, Rhodey, and of course - “Yes, my king!” Sam sang, coming in suave as ever with suspenders filled with amo. If Tony wasn’t the straightest man in Manhattan he’d be drooling. 

  
  


“Get in, get our guy, get out. I don;t want to go to war tonight.” 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stevie escapes (with a little help)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey my loves. With everything going on I wasn't sure if I wanted to post something so violent but this is a mafia-ish fic and I really wanted to give you guys another chapter! If you are protesting, please stay safe and wear a mask! This chapter is a bit graphic but it'll be okay (just like the world rn)! 
> 
> please be nice to each other and remember  
> BLACK LIVES MATTER

Steve was thrown into his room like a sack of potatoes - a bloody heap on the ground that just barely had a heartbeat. But it was there. Alexander Pierce strolled in silently with his suit neatly tailored to his growing belly, he spat at Steve like he was scum on the street. Brock Pierce came in shortly after, stepping in front of his father as the old man leaned calmly against the danky wall of Steve’s basement room. Brock’s voice shook Steve enough to make him jump - he thought so anyway, it was more of a twitch. “One. Job. We give you one job in almost 10 years and you - what? Disappear?” Another kick to the ribs that Steve could barely feel. “And not only did you fail to locate James, you _left_ the banquet.” Another kick before Brock leaned down to Steve’s eye level, “Just wait until tomorrow. I’ll find out where you went Steve, who you saw, what you did. And then I’ll kill you like I did your piece of shit father!” he gripped Steve’s hair and tugged him closer, Brock’s lips hovered over his ear. “And this time it won't be an accident. I’ll make it slow so you can feel every bit of betrayal my father has tonight. We were so polite, so good to you and your mother when we took you in. We give you a job, an opportunity and you, pal.” his laugh made acid come up in Steve’s throat “You fucked up.”.

  
  


They left then, leaving Steve on the ground like a piece of garbage. But the thing was: Steve Rogers wasn’t trash to be thrown out and forgotten. He had endured too much by seventeen to let Brock Pierce kill him. He used every amount of strength left in his arms to pull himself up, standing at the sink. He watched himself in the mirror, closely examining his body; he hadn’t had a beating like that in a while. Even Hydra men were intimidated by his size; whenever Pierce ordered Steve to “learn a lesson” it was never more than a few punches from the henchmen that did the dirty work. They were scared Steve would fight back - he never did. Steve knew it wasn't weakness to take the beating. Hurting is all Hydra knew; the people raised in the mob didn’t have a choice or they would be completely abandoned. Most guys took it relatively easy on him - except Brock, but if Steve was being honest he could probably take him too. It’s the words that hurt the most. Steve thought about his life. All the violence and pain always felt like chains around his chest - pulling him down into the depths of an ocean filled with no future outside the hell he was in. He looked at his half closed eye, twitching pathetically in the moonlight. He wouldn’t die tomorrow. Or the next day, And definitely not under the hand of fucking Hydra. He stared down at the empty spot on his hand where his father’s ring used to be - where Bucky had kissed his knuckles so gently hours before. Hydra had taken everything away from him. He glared at himself in the mirror and realized he was wrong. He still had his mother’s eyes. 

  
  


Steve rinsed the blood off his skin til the water in the sink ran clear. He held a cool stone that had been resting on the window against his eye to help the swelling. As he wrapped his ribs with a torn bedsheet he hummed the song that played at the ball while him and Bucky danced. He didn’t know where he was going to go after he got out of the mansion - if he got out alive. He thought about seeing James - no - Bucky again and the daydream stung. At least he’d gotten to see him one last time. The years between Steve and Sara arriving and Bucky leaving had been as good as they could be. Bucky’s kindness to him is what kept Steve’s faith. As Steve laced up his shoes his eyes caught a small glass bottle under his bed; his hands faltered as the memory came back. Bucky had stolen a glass from the kitchen and thrown in a few daisies from the garden before sneaking down to the basement. It was so late Steve wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not when Bucky shook him awake gently by his ankle. Steve shot up - shaking skinny arms ready for a fight. Bucky had held up his left hand in mock surrender and the other held the “vase”. Steve barely had time to be grateful before the tears started spilling. His mother was practically a saint and Pierce hadn’t even given her a funeral. Steve had never seen where she was buried or if she had been cremated. The last time he saw her she was barely breathing in a rickety old bed in the infirmary wing of the house. “I love you, be strong.” she had whimpered out before Steve was hauled away by men he didn’t know. Steve leaned forward and clutched the small glass to his chest. Bucky had held him that night with no words spoken between them. Steve had fallen asleep not knowing what it meant to feel safe in the arms of someone so young yet so deadly. He knew now. 

  
  


Realizing he loved Bucky hadn’t been as dramatic as he thought. It felt like pulling back a curtain to reveal the sun after years of darkness. He couldn’t just run away! Even if Bucky never wanted to see the man from the ball again - Steve had to tell him who he was, maybe even how he felt? He took a deep breath and grabbed the pocket knife from under his pillow. He only ever used it once, when a Hydra member drunkenly stumbled into his room during a banquet. He’d still been small but he got the guy right in the gut - Pierce hadn't been thrilled but even the devil could have his limits. Steve never saw the guy again. 

  
  


When he went to rip open the door it was locked. “Shit-” he muttered as he pulled relentlessly to no avail. He was still in pain but the adrenaline of what he was about to do gave him enough energy to step back and kick the door open. He doubled over leaning his hands on his knees and tried to keep his coughing quiet. Fuck he was in so much pain.

  
  


“Well that was impressive.” Steve’s head snapped up to see a gorgeous woman in a full black leather suit. He jumped back with his hands up, knife at eye level. She stepped forward and Steve saw more clearly that her lips were painted red to compliment the fiery color of the hair that was pulled back into a tight bun. Tilting her head to the side, she stuck her hand out “Natasha, I work for Tony.” her voice was deep and smooth as silk. 

  
  


“You’re an Avenger?” Steve asked in disbelief, “What the hell are you doing here? You’ll be killed if they-” “Steve.” She grabbed his wrist and turned on her impressively high heels. “We don’t have time for your chivalry or your questions. There's a car waiting about half a mile up the road to take us back to the Tower-” “The T- Tower?”

  
  


Natasha stopped for only a moment to give Steve an unimpressed look “How hard did they hit your head? We're here to rescue you assuming you're not a brainwashed murderer already.” Steve scoffed and stood up a little straighter, tucking the pocket knife back into his pants. “It’s just - wait are you here to kill me?”

  
  


“Oh my _god-_ ” Steve picked up enough Russian over the years to know Natasha was cursing at him, but the smirk on her face as they snuck out through the garden made Steve smile. Damn, his face still hurt. 

  
  


When they reached the backroad there were 3 men Steve assumed were Avengers as well if the matching black leather was anything to go by. Their eyes were glued to Steve, ready to attack at any moment - he honestly couldn’t blame them. “Where’s Scott?” Natasha asked to the small group. Before anyone could answer shots rang out and Steve squinted in the darkness to see a pale man running toward them, arms waving wildly “Run!”

  
  


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Sam had thrown Steve over his shoulder and ran with him all the way back to the car. They managed to get away without any serious injuries (Scott would forever be dramatic at the bullet graze on his arm). "Natasha how did you -know my- n- name-" Sam had been ready to catch Steve as he lost consciousness. His experience in the army helped to be a step ahead when Steve slumped forward, passing out with blood trickling off his lips. 

  
  


When the car drove past the gate of the Avengers Tower the sky was a royal blue with the sun fast approaching. Tony had sent someone to get Bucky moments before, and the Mobster Prince was barely out the door before Pietro was running ahead of the car yelling for help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My poor baby i hate hurting him


End file.
